She Loved Him
by Linwe Mithrandir
Summary: A short story of a how a young, ambitious scientist finds a poor orphaned girl and saves her from a life on the streets. Within twenty years he is able to perfect his technology and gain a powerful position in his government. His plan: To rule the world as absolute dictator. But what about Fariah? FARIAH/SALAMANDER WITH LOTS OF FLUFF. Takes place in, "The Enemy of the World."


**Author's Note: **I DEDICATE THIS TO MY DEAR FRIEND ON TUMBLR, ALEX/RAMON-SALAMANDER/HISLOSTSHADOW. She made me fall in love with this evil dictator who is played by Patrick Troughton who also plays the Second Doctor.

**Full Summary of this Crazy Story: **A short story of a how a young, ambitious scientist finds a poor orphaned girl and saves her from a life on the streets...possibly death. Within twenty years he is able to perfect his technology and gain power in the Central European Zone's government, his plan? To ultimately rule the world as a dictator. But what's happened of the little girl, Fariah? She's his food taster and assistant to the chef, Griffin. Three one-shots rolled into one big little story(?). OVERALL THIS WAS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE FARIAHxSALAMANDER/SALARIAH W/ HAIR PLAYING, SOPAPILLA EATING, AND STORY READING. WHOO FOR CHEESINESS. Takes place in the Classic Who (MOSTLY LOST) serial, "The Enemy of the World."

* * *

"How was your day, Señor?" Mrs. Velasquez inquired as her boss stormed into the apartment.

"Señor?" She repeated, noticing something off about the young master. He pinched the bridge of nose and shook his head.

"Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! Do you realize I have solved world hunger – **world hunger**, Rosa, and they have turned me away!"

"Maestro, I am sure they will see – "

"_To be sure they will see_." He put his hands on the back of one of the chairs in the parlor, seething with vehemence.

"I will show them. It just has to be perfected. Oh, I assure you they will be sorry. Stupid, bumbling, political swine."

"Ramón."

He sighed and relaxed, nodding to his former nanny and now maid.

"I am going out for a walk."

The elderly woman grabbed a heavy coat and brought it to him.

"The English weather, Señor, it is very cold. They say it will snow more – bring your jacket, por favor."

He laughed turning so she could help him put it on, "Of course, Rosa."

"You are a good boy – a good man." She walked to his front and fixed the collar. "Your time will come, mi hijo. You will do great things!"

He grew solemn before clearing his throat, "I will be back in half an hour."

"Wait-wait-wait," she left and returned quickly with a paper bag, "I made some sopapillas – in case you get hungry on your walk."

A grin reappeared on his face as he took the bag noting how well the old woman knew him.

"Thank you, Rosa."

"De nada. Now go on, be safe! And be good!"

The housekeeper watched as he left, her heart filled with concern for the sensitive and impassioned boy.

"Oh, Charlie," She sat on the settee next to the black, chubby cat licking at its paws. "I worry about him. He has the best intentions but he is so hungry for power…I see it in his eyes; he always has been, since he was but a niño. Ay! Do _not _scratch at the fabric, estúpido!"

The scientist marched through the snow, grumbling to himself and trying to work out how he could move past the obstacles ahead of him. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going, he didn't care either. He wanted to be lost in these winding, old streets of London. He wanted to forget about this afternoon: when they had rejected him, when they had laughed at him, when they had said he was out of his mind, when they had said, "impossible." He knew he was young, but he was brilliant. He was creative, ambitious, meticulous, and ingenious.

There was an odd noise that suddenly caught his attention. He paused, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Hello?" It seemed to be coming from the alleyway. He swallowed, a bit of fear striking his heart.

"Hello?" He repeated before taking a couple steps forward not entirely into the alleyway but close enough to be able to make out the small figure shuffling in the dark, as well as exactly what the noise was. It was crying.

"Are you alright?" He murmured to the small, hunched over person who was hiding near one of the trash bins. Ramón Salamander peered down as a tear-stained face lifted up to meet his gaze. He held back a gasp when he saw the gaunt cheeks and dark eyes of a scared, little girl who could have been no more than 9 years old. He struggled to find words.

"A-are you lost, niña?"

She shook her head, and kept her distance from the stranger.

"Please, don't be afraid. I only wish to help."

"I don't know." She mumbled.

"Don't know what? Where are your parents?"

She shook her head once more, confounded by this man's eagerness to help her.

"I see..." _An orphan? _"Do you have a home?"

"No."

"Nowhere?"

She was silent, shivering where she stood in the snow, her arms bare and her lips blue. He realized these questions were silly. This girl needed help. She needed food. She needed a place to say.

"Come out of there. Here, put this on." He took off his coat and held it out to her, sincerity and kindness etched in his eyes. The child would have run away by now if it were anyone else. But there was something about the way he spoke and looked that made her trust him. She had known enough bad to be able to recognize what was good. She inched out of the dark and put on the oversized article of clothing, reveling in the warmth.

"Better?"

She stared wordlessly at him, wondering why he cared.

"You must be hungry too. I have some food. They're sweets called sopapillas," He realized they may not be the most conventional food but it's what he had on him at the moment and he wanted nothing more than to see this poor, emaciated child eating something.

"My favorite." He smiled warmly and retrieved one of the sugary pastries from the bag before handing it out to her. She took no time in seizing and then devouring it, getting her face and hands covered with the powdered sugar.

"Bien, eh? Here, have some more." He acquired another two, holding back a chuckle as she snatched them quickly.

He swallowed, asking himself what he should do. Should he go to the police? Should he leave her there with the food and his coat? **No**…that was completely unthinkable. He could never leave her here, alone and cold and lost. Rosa would know what to do.

"Follow me."

The little girl's eyes widened and she shook her head. Salamander nodded and then got down on his knees to her eye-level.

"My name is Ramón, what is yours?"

"…Fariah."

"Fariah, where I live there is plenty of room for another person. There is a nice, old, fat woman named Mrs. Velasquez who will take care of you and cook you lots of good, warm meals. I want to help you find your home and your familia. Until I can do that however, I must be sure you are safe and healthy and well-fed. What do you say, niña?"

She became thoughtful but it was not long before she agreed.

"That would be nice."

* * *

It had been three weeks since he had found her, and neither he nor the police had found any trace of family or home. When he had brought her to Rosa (who had been extremely surprised, though she was used to Salamander bringing odd things back home…Charlie the cat for example) she advised him to go to the police immediately. He argued that immediately was unnecessary, and decided on informing the law enforcement after Fariah had settled in for a few days. Rosa didn't like this, she didn't like it one bit…oh, perhaps that's exaggerating. She knew where this was heading after the end of the second week. Her boss wasn't going to want to let Fariah go. He was growing attached to her. He let her get away with everything, Mrs. Velasquez was almost positive that he might even let her get away with murder. And she, too, was becoming fond of the dark, little girl from the streets. She was high-spirited, strong-willed, clever, and almost too forgiving. How couldn't you love her? That was the problem. Rosa was worried that if they found Fariah's family, found her home, that Ramon wouldn't be able to give her up so easily. He was a stubborn, determined man (as was evident in his work) it would surely break his heart.

The older woman watched Fariah from the couch, needle and fabric in hand. She was creating a quilt for the girl, who often complained about it being too cold at night. She was too skinny; something that Rosa was often concerned about and tried to mend.

"Have you eaten your dinner yet, chiquitita?"

The little girl stopped playing with the pretty doll that had once been Salamander's Mother's, though Fariah didn't know that. She gave a nod of her head.

"All of it?"

"Yes, I ate all of it."

"Are you telling me the truth, Fariah?"

"I am, Rosa! Yeesh!"

"Now, now, no need to get smart with me, mi hija."

"I'm sorry…I really did eat all of my dinner though."

"Que es bien. Come here, cariña."

Fariah got up and sat next to the gentle old woman.

"Do you like this?"

She held up a light pink cloth. It was of a satin-like material, and very soft.

"Oh, it's so pretty."

"I'm putting it in your quilt."

The girl grasped it, making Rosa laugh and reminding her of the daughter she once had. Fariah became mesmerized with the baroque design, of the elegant swerves and the soft shine of the fabric.

"Can I go show Ram - Mister Salamander?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure; he's very busy right now."

"Oh please, pretty-pretty please? He's been working _**all day long**_."

"Well, yes, that would be the point of work. Do you ever see _me_ stop working?"

Fariah was about to say something when Mrs. Velasquez shook her head.

"Never mind, don't answer that question."

The child couldn't help but laugh, and hers was such a laugh that everyone in a room with her laugh would get infected and have to at least chuckle along. Which is exactly what Rosa did.

"Sí, sí. Alright, you can go, but if he seems too busy, don't bother him and come back for some cookies and then I'll tuck you in bed, entendida?"

"Okay, but what's…enten-nen-nendida?"

The maid chuckled and shook her head, "Never mind it. Go show el patrón the pretty thing."

Fariah got up quickly and ran down the hall and then turned the corner to Salamander's office. The door was always open, but it was a rule that you weren't allowed to just go walking in there whenever you wanted, though that didn't always stop Fariah. She went inside, but then remembered what Mrs. Velasquez had told her before. She backed out of the room and then knocked on the door three or four times.

"Who is it?" By the tone of his voice it was obvious that he was focusing on something rather intensely.

"Ramón…I mean, Mister Salamander?" She inquired and inched her way into the room.

"Would that be little miss Fariah? Come on in." He looked up from his writing and gave her a special, warm smile.

"And you can call me Ramón, I wouldn't mind."

The little girl was happy for the approval, though she generally didn't worry too much about etiquette or bothering others, as she was just a girl and her filter wasn't exactly the best, she did worry about doing things so wrong people didn't want her anymore. She skipped to his side and held out the piece of cloth.

"Look what Rosa's going to put in my quilt."

"Ah, will you look at that?" He whispered to her in amazement, taking the material in hand and examining it.

"Very nice, Fariah. Do you like that color?"

"Um…_sí_. Pink is my favorite, and then there's purple, and then blue, and-and green. Those are all pretty."

He chuckled at the use of Spanish. He knew that Rosa spoke it often, and although he did every once and awhile he tried not to around many people especially Fariah…unless he didn't want to be understood. But when he spoke _to_ Fariah, he wouldn't want her to have to struggle with understanding a foreign language. Understanding was important. He wanted her to trust him, he felt something deep within him that made him want to protect her and keep her safe…like a big brother.

"I'll have to keep that in mind. Thank you for showing me, now I have to get back to work."

"Mm, Ramón, I was wondering if, mm…maybe you would…would come out and read me a story?"

The almost thirty year-old man looked at his watch, realizing that it _was_ very close to her bed-time. He looked at his work, before turning his eyes back to the sweet little girl beside him. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Ohh-okay. I'll read you a story."

"Thank you, thank you!"

She gave him a hug, which took him aback, but didn't keep him from returning it.

"I just need to finish something first. I'll be out in ten minutes, I promise."

Fariah nodded and left, asking for Rosa to tuck her in bed early so that she would be ready for her favorite person to read to her. She had always liked the idea of being read to before she went to sleep. It was something so iconic, and of what all the other girls at the orphanages were talking about. Rebecca constantly gushed about how her Daddy used to read bedtime stories for her every night. She'd make all of the girls jealous; including Fariah, but Fariah was never upset or cruel enough to remind Rebecca that her Dad was gone…like some of the other girls did.

"What story are you going to choose?" Mrs. Velasquez asked. She had read to her before, it was something that the girl seemed to really like, even though she had a tendency to fall asleep during the first three lines.

"Hmm…_Beauty and the Beast_?"

"Oh, que bien. I like that story."

"I do, too. Do you think Mister Salamander will like the story?"

"I'm sure! He bought it after all. Even if he doesn't, he promised to read anyway, didn't he?" Rosa smiled and gave Fariah a tap on the nose.

"Promised what?" The two looked up to see Ramón standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a friendly grin on his countenance.

"You promised to read me a bedtime story."

"I did, didn't I? And what have you got in plan for me, little one?"

He strode to her bedside, taking a spot next to his old nanny.

"She'd like you to read _Beauty and the Beast_, Señor."

"_Beauty and the Beast_, eh? How _**romantic**_!" He exclaimed.

Fariah giggled, "I like the girl. She's very smart, and she can read." This was something that the orphaned girl didn't actually know how to do. She wanted to be able to, and voiced that opinion often. And Ramón, who was eager to make her happy, was already starting to look for places she could get a proper education.

"Good night, mi cariña." Rosa bent over and gave the child a kiss on the forehead, "Sleep well. Buenos noches, Maestro."

"Good night, Mrs. Valesquez." Fariah responded, and as did Ramón in kind. After the maid left, he half sat on the bed, and gave his companion a warm smile.

"Alright then, give me the book." Salamander waited for her to get it out from the shelf near her bed.

"Thank you. _Now_, let's see." He flipped to the first page, "Right, right. Scoot over a bit."

Fariah did so, allowing him to sit next to her and allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Much more comfortable. Okay, let's start, niña. 'Once upon a time,' ay, rather cliché, don't you think?" She chuckled lightly and shook her head.

"You're silly."

"I think you're wrong."

"I'm not."

"Sí, you are."

"Ramón! You promised to read the book, and you _aren't _reading the book."

"Aren't you a sarcastic one! Yes, yes, okay, where was I? _That's right._ 'Once upon a time there lived a girl, her two sisters, and their papa…'"

He was an alright story-teller. He enjoyed reading, he liked words, and he liked saying them. Words always felt right in his mouth. He could make them whatever he wanted; he could manipulate them in any way. He liked being in control of that. Half-way through the story she started to play with his hair, a pastime she had taken to doing whenever she was bored and he was around. She'd try to hold all of his hair together even though it was too short for an actual ponytail. She would braid bits and pieces or simply twist the ends of the black locks absentmindedly. If she could find hairbands – God forbid – she'd put his hair into several little pigtails. That had only happened once, thank goodness, and Rosa forbid her from doing it again though Salamander just laughed it off as he tried to release his poor hair from its new and unfamiliar bonds.

"Fariah?" Her body had become limp and it had been a bit since she last braided his bangs. He didn't receive any answer save for some soft breathing. He sighed and put down the book on the nightstand. The unsuspecting man started to slide away her, but then her little fingers grasped at his shirt, willing her human teddy bear to stay. Ramón laughed and pried her fingers away; he knew he had to get back to his work. As soon as he was out of her clutches, he got up and smoothed down his shirt. He examined her for a moment, happy in that she wasn't so frail or hungry or lost now. **She was safe**. He pulled the covers up over her shoulder and patted her arm.

"Good night, Fariah."

* * *

Those special and warm days and nights had since passed. And the once sensitive and warm man Ramón Salamander had been twenty years ago was replaced with one that was cruel, and infinitely more manipulative than he had ever been before. He grew desperate for power, desperate for a position of complete and utter dictatorship…**over the world**. As for Fariah, nothing except for a surname was found about her family, and so she stayed with Salamander and Rosa. The old woman and the ambitious young man took care of her and protected her. In fact, Rosa went so far as to adopt her as her own daughter. They didn't see Salamander nearly as much, but when Fariah happened to need anything…such as when she was in need of a job, he immediately made a position for her as assistant chef remarking on how she was always a good cook. But he made himself discreet in her life…but explicit in everybody else's. He became an influential and popular politician. And not too shortly after Rosa had passed, Salamander reached one of the highest positions in the Central European Zone's government. The more power that Salamander seemed to obtain, the less important everything else became to him, including Fariah. Despite his gradually less and less involvement in her life he held her probably the dearest to him out of everyone…if he could hold anyone dear any more.

She was his food taster now, including assistant to the chef, Griffin. No more bedtime stories. No more giggles and silliness. It was serious. It was always serious. But she was willing to try to lighten things up.

"Griffin, do you know where the powdered sugar is?"

"We're probably out of it."

"That didn't answer my question."

The pessimistic man sighed and shrugged, "It's probably in the fifth right cabinet if anywhere. I sincerely doubt that we have any though. The sopa-what-as will probably be terrible anyway. I don't see why it matters. You just said make sopa-what-as – "

"_Sopapillas_, sopapillas, Griffin."

"You just said make sopa-what-as, not powdered-sugar-covered-sopa-what-as."

"Well, it's what every good sopapilla needs. Just like how you can't have jambalaya without a bucket of cayenne pepper in it. You can be so bleak sometimes, Griffin."

"Such is life."

She stuck her tongue out at him and went forth to check for the powdered sugar, sure enough, it was there…full even. Fariah dusted the sweets with the sugar, and then grabbed the plate.

"I've got to get started on dinner, so be quick about it all so you can help me."

The beautiful young woman saluted the gloomy chef and left the kitchen. She was always hoping that beneath the coarse exterior of Salamander the Scientist and Politician hid the sensitive and thoughtful Ramón she grew up with, just waiting to return. But even in her hoping, she knew something had to be done about the power-hungry man he was now. He had to be stopped. Out of nearly everybody, she knew and heard the most about his plans and ideas. She was sneaky, clever, and light-footed. She always had been, ever since she was that little orphan running away from the lonely poorhouses that as a kid she was sure had been keeping her hostage from her real family. She was good at running away. She wondered why she wouldn't run away from Salamander now. He held her here against her will, but if she truly wanted out, she could find a way. Fariah would reason that it was because she had a sense of loyalty due to his kindness in the past. She would say that it was because she kept hoping for the old him to return. She would say that it was because she was the only way anyone who wanted to stop Salamander would be able to do so. But the truth was this…

"Mister Salamander?"

There was some scuffling behind the door and then a crude exclamation. She knocked on the door impatiently, waiting for him to permit her entrance.

"Who is it?"

"Fariah."

"Ah," she could practically see him fixing his cuffs as he cleared his throat, "Miss Neguib, you can come in."

She opened the door, spotting him at his desk, working diligently on something.

"What do you want?" He muttered gruffly.

"I had the chef make something special for you; I thought you might like it. I heard your day hasn't been going very well."

"My day is going accordingly! It's none of your business anyway. What is it then, so that I can get back to my work."

She held back a sigh at his manner, trying not to allow his cold and unfeeling words to get to her. Fariah did as was told and placed the plate on his desk. He didn't even look until some time had passed and she patted the surface. He glanced up and nodded absentmindedly…but then…then he recognized it and he stopped everything: the pen on the paper, the air in his lungs, the beating of the heart in his chest, _everything_. He pressed his lips firmly together. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was breathless. The soon-to-be-dictator looked down at his desk, and then up at the meddling woman who stood beside him.

"I hope you like them."

She started to walk away when he grabbed the material at her waist. He swallowed and then made a wary, stern face.

"You're my food taster. I haven't seen you do any food tasting. How am I to be sure this isn't poisoned?"

Fariah took one of the sopapillas between her forefinger and thumb; she kept eye contact, daring him to break it. To betray her. She bit off a fairly big chunk of the treat, not caring that she now had powdered sugar all over her cheeks and lips and hand.

"Yum. Are you happy now?"

"Aren't _you_ a sarcastic one. It would be unwise for you to be so impertinent, Miss Neguib."

His words were rough, but his voice was actually very gentle and pensive in tone.

"Try one, they're good." She grabbed another from the plate and held it out. He eyed it suspiciously, he was always suspicious. He was so intelligent and clever and ingenious, but paranoid. Salamander took it from her and proceeded to try it. She was right.

"Bien, Miss Neguib, muy bien."

"And you can call me Fariah, I wouldn't mind."

"I call you Miss Neguib for a re –"

"Please. Call me Fariah."

His poignant blue eyes searched her brown ones and he nodded.

"Then, _Fariah_…" He tried the name out, a name he hadn't used for her in such a long time.

"I wouldn't mind it if you brought those sopapillas in every day."

She grinned widely, "I will then. And would you…would you be alright reading with me sometime, Mister Salamander?"

"If I'm calling you Fariah, you best be sure to call me Ramón."

She tried not to laugh, taking delight in the way he said his own name…something strange and separate from everything that he tried to be. For it was warm, and tender, and sweet.

"Ramón, would you read to me sometime?"

"I'll see if I can make the time for it. I'm a busy man."

"Of course."

"But I wouldn't be against it. I do enjoy the few moments I have with you." He cleared his throat, staring down at his work as he scratched his pen across the paper.

"And I, you."

He scoffed, "I find that very hard to believe."

"I do th –"

"Now, ah, if you'll go back to your duties, I shall resign to mine. Good bye."

"I'll see you at dinner then."

But he was already immersed in his work, in the technology he had designed and how he could further it and how he could 'predict' natural disasters. Fariah fought not to stomp out of the room, she fought not to slam the door, and she fought not to throw the dough she was kneading at Griffin's face when he was being entirely, and unbearably negative – about _everything_.

"Don't you have anything good to say?"

"…it probably won't rain tonight."

"At least you tried."

Griffin gave a very swift smile, "You're a patient lady, Fariah."

She laughed, and turned the dough over.

"There's something nice, but I don't believe it one bit. I'm probably the most impatient person on the face of our planet."

"I disagree."

The food taster shook her head as she searched for the dough roller.

"Thank you anyway, Griffin."

The next afternoon, Fariah had the chef whip up another batch of the sopapillas, perhaps a bit more this time for the both of them (she was a bit hungry herself today). She knocked on Salamander's door three or four times.

"Come in!"

She came inside, and closed the door with the heel of her shoe, making it shut a little louder than was necessary.

"Sorry."

"You can put them on the coffee table over there. Sit down."

She was a little taken aback at the latter part of that, but nevertheless she set down the plate of pastries and then sat down on the loveseat, watching the cunning politician at his desk, scribbling away at something. Finally, after a couple of minutes or so he stopped. He opened one of the drawers, and took out a small item. He got up, putting it behind him, and then he sat down next to her. She took notice of the light pink lining on his clothes…they were the same color…

"Do you remember this?"

He showed her the object…the very familiar object. It was a book, a book titled _Beauty and the Beast._ She touched the cover of the memoir, her head filling with thousands of memories.

"My favorite bedtime story."

"You said you wanted to read with me sometime, I have made time to do so now, you have the rest of the day off. Only this once, entendida?"

Fariah held back a chuckle and nodded, "Yes…um…whatever enten-nen-nendida means."

He shook his head at her, continuing, "I'll read this book, if it's what you want. Or you can run to my library to get another and risk wasting more than fifteen minutes of our time. I'm good any way, despite how sickeningly _sentimental and __**romantic **_this one is."

"No, this is good." He smiled. It was odd to see this dictator, the world-renowned scientist, Señor Salamander relaxed and loose against a sofa with a children's book in hand. He turned to the first page, and then rested his right arm on the back of the couch.

"Let's see, oh yes, I remember how this started: 'Once upon a time…'_How _cliché."

"You said you would read the book, Ramón, you're not reading it."

He laughed in a way he hadn't in for far too long, boisterously and with all of his heart.

"Alright, I'll be serious now. 'Once upon a time there lived a girl, her two sisters, and their papa…'"

Fariah sat close to him, in order to peruse the words while he read them. Eventually, she let her head rest on his shoulder, which he made no objection to. In fact, he encouraged it, by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and lightly pulling her closer. She tucked her head under his chin, and rested her right arm on his waist, while her left hand lay on his shoulder.

" 'The beast asked her, 'Will you marry me?' every night after dinner, never once relenting. And every time he was rejected and every time he would respond simply with, 'Good nig –"

Fariah began to play with his hair…just like all those years ago. She messed with the locks at the base of his neck, tugging and petting his hair idly. Needless to say, it was distracting to Ramón – pleasing, but distracting.

" 'He would respond…simply with, 'Good night, Beauty. I will see you in the morning.'"

She began to braid the right side of his bangs, and when she was finished she patted them down and willed them to stay there for the rest of the time. She traced designs on his right cheek, first a heart and then a star. At last Fariah just let her hand return to the back of his neck. He said or did nothing against it, and so, she didn't think it necessary to stop. Until…

"You always had soft hair, Ramón."

She didn't realize the words left her mouth until she heard them herself. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks grew hot and she started to get away but he held her back.

"Really? Do you think so?" He raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to feel his hair. He shrugged.

"Es bueno…pero…" He reached out and moved her bangs out of her eyes before taking a few strands between his forefinger and thumb.

"Pero no es tan suave como tu el pelo. Y mi cara…" He grazed her cheek with his fingertips, "Es no tan hermosa como tu cara."

"What did you say?"

"There's only twenty minutes left and I need to finish the story so I can go back to work."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged, "I'm a politician, there are not many who _do _believe me, niña. Where were we? Ah, that's right…"

"Stop calling me niña, I'm not a child."

"I'll call you what I want to, _niña_."

"Then I get to call you whatever I want to."

"I'm an established, powerful man who is solving world hunger – and you're my food taster. It doesn't quite work like that."

"…I could argue that if I weren't here you wouldn't know what was safe to eat or not and you could've died by now. Therefore, without me, there would be no you."

He laughed and then gave a firm, "No."

She sighed and fell against his chest, but relented in playing with his hair again. He let his arm rest on her arm and as the story went by his voice got quieter and quieter until it was almost a hum. She felt comfortable, warm, safe, and happy. _Really _happy in the first time since he had perfected the Sun Store technology and become such a success. Fariah's eyes began to droop, and before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep. He put the book down on the arm of the settee before looking down at the woman who was laying on him. He confirmed his suspicions of her dozing and so he began to move away. Pulling his arm out from behind her and pushing her gently off of him. But just like so many years ago, she clung to his shirt and then murmured.

"You can't leave…not yet. Just stay here." He put his hand on hers, about to pry her fingers apart from his clothing, but then…he paused. There was still five minutes left surely whatever he needed to do could wait for that long. And so he resolved not to leave until then. He rubbed the top of her hand softly, tracing little circles and designs on her dark skin.

"Sí, Fariah. Alright."

He kept track of her breathing, and he tried to keep in time with it. Salamander held her closer, wishing they could stay there forever. And at the same time, he wanted her to just go. He had better things to do. There was not much that stood in his way…all that was left was Alexander Denes. He would take place as the complete leader of the Central European Zone and everything else would be a piece of cake. Then there was this impossible, young woman…she had been such a little, lost girl…and she had grown clever, and spirited, and beautiful. _Very beautiful_. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. He was winning it all, but he was losing everything. He had already lost Fariah. _But this was his life._ He had worked so hard, so long for this. He couldn't give it up now. He clenched his fist and pressed it to his lips, exhaling heavily. Why didn't he just let her go? _But that was unthinkable. He could never leave her… _

His eyes found the time on his watch, and he realized that the time was up. Had five minutes really gone and passed so quickly?

"Miss Neguib, wake up. I have plenty of work ahead of me, and I am sure you have your own share cut out for you."

He shook her, causing her to stir and then groan. When she realized where she was, and that she had been sleeping on him she darted up, missing his head by only a fraction of an inch.

"Ay! _Careful._"

She moved away and nodded, wiping down her shirt and smoothing her hair.

"Sorry, Mister Salamander. You're right, I need to get going: Griffin needs help with dinner. Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy the sopapillas."

He shrugged, and rubbed his chin with his forefinger.

"Fariah, don't leave yet. It was very nice, like old times. But you must realize that those times are precisely that: _old_. They have passed and although we have not spoken of it aloud I think we both know that there is nothing that can be done about it. I will…_treasure_ the memories we have shared. But it is time that we both move on, Fariah. You as my servant, and I, as your master. Those are our paths. The only paths."

"I see."

"Bien. Now…" He got up and took a seat at his desk. "Duty calls."

And every day since, Fariah would bring in sopapillas – unless someone happened to be visiting. And some days they would make light conversation about the weather or about their days. _"How is your day?" "Fine, fine, yours?" "Alright enough." "Hm." _On rare occasions he would invite her to eat with him, or even sit next to him while he worked. Sometimes she could convince herself that perhaps he was changing…getting better. But then she would take peeks at what he was writing, and she would try not to show her inherent disappointment in the bribes and terrible plans he was making. Sometimes, when he allowed her to stay for a little bit longer, and he was particularly pleasant, she would play with his hair and weave it into little braids. Sometimes she would turn it into a game. She'd try to put braids in his hair without him noticing, which was always interesting for him when he had an important engagement later.

"_What's that in your hair, Salamander?" _

"_What's what? Ay! - __**Fariah.**__" _

"_What?"_

"_**It's nothing**__. Let's get back to business." _

But all good things had to come to an end, and their time together started to dwindle with the first, "Not today, Fariah," to the simply ignoring her when she knocked on the door. He became darker and colder and more distant every day. And it broke her heart. She hated him for it. She knew she had to stop him. And when Victoria came and befriended her and gave her ideas of hope; of a way to stop this madness, she knew it was her chance.

…and yet…

As much as she hated him.

As much as she loathed what he'd become.

As much as she despised the hate and greed that enveloped him, and turned him into the cruel, heartless dictator of the Zone.

**She loved him. **

* * *

**Continued Author's Note:** So, I really liked writing this story, and at first it was going to be one tiny one-shot with Fariah playing with his hair because the person I dedicated this to has a blog where she RPs as Salamander and I was going to play with his hair but he said no and we were playing around with him and teased him by saying, "IS IT BECAUSE FARIAH PLAYED WITH YOUR HAIR?" And then he got ticked off because it was true (I am totally aware that I am talking of a fictional person okay). AND THEN. _AND THEN. _THIS EVIL LADY POSTED THE MOST ADORABLE HEADCANON WITH FARIAH AND SALAMANDER WHERE HE FOUND FARIAH ON THE STREETS AND TOOK HER IN JEAN-VALJEAN-STYLE. ALSO BOTH SHE (ALEX/MUN OF SALAMANDER) AND SALAMANDER LIKE SOPAPILLAS THUS THE SOPAPILLAS. THE END.

...I think this is my first "crack!fic."


End file.
